


An Arbitrary Ritual

by felypsa



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, High School, Meet-Cute, Prom, Romantic Fluff, Teen Crush, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 05:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13804668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felypsa/pseuds/felypsa
Summary: Wanda has convinced a very reluctant Pietro to crash their first and only authentic high school prom. Pietro is ready to hate everything about it. And he's right — but not entirely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place roughly 12 years before the current timeline in my roleplay site's universe, when Pietro and Wanda are teenagers who have been adopted/recruited by Magneto as he starts to build the Brotherhood. Emily hasn't undergone Terrigenesis yet, so she's just another human (for now...stay tuned for the sequel). 
> 
> This fluffy prom stuff was just very cathartic for me after Pietro and Emily broke my heart in Uncanny Avengers #29 and #30. Let them be happy, Marvel. Come on.

Tuxes were itchy. 

It didn’t take long for Pietro to regret what he and Wanda were doing. As in, about five minutes after wearing the powder blue tux with a silver tie. If he ran for long enough, he wondered, would the material rip and tear off of him? Honestly, it was extremely tempting to try.

But they were only going to get one night like this. Their father was busy in DC with matters that, according to him, didn’t concern the twins, and Wanda—who had been watching way too many of those crap TV shows about overly photogenic high schoolers having drama—wanted to experience a “senior prom” just once in her life. But she couldn’t crash it alone; she said she would be less conspicuous if she had a date. 

So here they were, just outside of a back entrance to a fancy function hall in the Hilton where some super expensive private high school’s prom was going on. Wanda hexed the locks very carefully, and they were able to slip in without having to deal with the security in front where the students had to show their school IDs to be let in. And just like that, the Maximoff twins made it to their first prom.

It was, in Pietro’s opinion, super lame.

His sister looked gorgeous, of course. She had dressed up in a beautiful flowing red gown and wore gold earrings and a necklace (which Pietro had speed-stolen a few days ago). She had done her own hair in a marvelous up-do that made her look regal. Call it a brother’s bias, but Pietro was sure no other watered-down human teenager would even come close to Wanda’s beauty. And that was what this was all about, he reminded himself grumpily; making sure that Wanda felt like the queen she deserved to be. Because their father sure never let them do anything fun outside of training and studying.

But his love for Wanda was the _only_ thing keeping him here in this cheesily disco-lit function room while stale, uninspired pop music wafted over the crowd. It was torture for the senses, really. Pietro could only hope that, since this was a party for rich kids, the food would be worth it. 

Wanda reached over to squeeze his arm. “Isn’t this lovely, Pietro? It looks exactly what I expected!”

He rolled his eyes as he looked over at the dance floor, where the high schoolers were awkwardly bumping and grinding on each other. “Yeah. Me too.” He glanced at his sister. “I’m actually beginning to see why Father hates humans so much. They rule the world, and yet _this_ is what they do with their power.” He snorted. “What a waste.”

“Pietro, don’t ruin this for me,” Wanda warned, pulling away and giving him a frown. “We came here to get _away_ from Father’s lessons. This may not be _your_ perfect fantasy, but it’s just harmless fun.” She playfully pushed him in the shoulder. “You went through all the trouble of getting in that tux. Are you going to sit in the corner and sulk about it, or are you going to mingle and at least _try_ to enjoy yourself?”

“I hate this tux,” he told her, though she already knew. “And yes, I think the only thing that interests me is the food table right now. So I’m going to go there and ‘sulk’ over whatever overpriced snacks they have. You can come with me if you like, or you can go…be a dancing queen or whatever.”

Wanda crossed her arms and shook her head. “Fine, but I’m getting you on that dance floor before the evening is up.”

“Challenge accepted. Now I know what I definitely _won’t_ be doing tonight.” 

She sighed. “One day, Pietro, you’ll learn that spite alone isn’t a good enough reason to do or not do something.” With that, she turned on her heel and stomped on her high heels toward the dance floor.

“Says who?” he called after her. He wasn’t worried that she was truly upset with him; a little annoyed, sure, but she’d forgive him. This whole thing had been her idea, so she couldn’t expect that Pietro would be excited about it. He moved over to the food table as fast as he dared (trying to resist the urge to just blur over there while no one was paying attention), certain that Wanda would get tired of this so-called “dancing” after ten minutes and come find him wanting to leave.

Even though the students were the same age as him, Pietro couldn’t help but think of them all as children. They knew nothing about real life experiences. They’d grown up with a silver spoon in their mouths, everything handed to them for minimal effort. They didn’t know anything about having to fight for survival, about knowing that the entire world wanted you dead just for who you are and what you were born as, about feeling like there were only a few people you could actually trust. He and Wanda had had to struggle for everything they had, even though they were stronger and more powerful than everyone who had hurt them.

It was just so stupidly unfair, he thought bitterly as he stuffed bruschetta in his mouth, that children who’d never had to lift a finger were given this gauzy teenage fantasy, while he and Wanda—with their incredible supernatural powers—had to sneak in like they didn’t belong. It was pathetic that Wanda would only get one night like this, and that it was a lie, a fake. She deserved much more than that; they both did. They deserved to have proms held in their honor every day.

“Um, _excuse_ me, old man, are you seriously eating _all_ of those?”

Pietro swallowed the last bit of tomato and turned to stare at the person who had interrupted him. The speaker was a tall, curvy blonde in a form-hugging blue dress and way too much makeup, and she was looking at Pietro like he was a piece of gum she’d just stepped on. Next to her was a dark-haired boy just a few inches taller than him in a black tux and a blue tie that matched her dress. His face had the texture of old yogurt, and Pietro was willing to bet that he’d hit his head one too many times playing football.

He looked down at the bruschetta plate and realized he’d been standing here long enough to scarf down half of them. Whoops.

“Nah,” he said, shrugging and wiping his fingers on his suit. “They weren’t that good. Trust me.”

They both gawked at him, and the girl said, “Oh my God, who the hell do you think you are? What’s with the gray hair? An edgy fashion statement?”

“Worst fashion statement ever. What, you’re too cool for color?” her date quipped. The girl’s responding laugh sounded like the most annoying alarm bell in the universe.

Pietro forced a toothy smirk. “You must be the so-called popular kids.”

The girl stopped laughing and stared at him again. “Are you serious? Do you not know who we are?”

“He’s not in our grade,” the boy realized. “I bet he doesn’t even go to our school. So who the fuck are you, old man?”

Oh no, there went his cover. Now he and Wanda were going to have to call it an early night. What a tragedy. “I’m someone who doesn’t give a single shit about who you are. By the way, you’ve already hit the peak of your life, and it’s all downhill from here for you.”

Both of them looked nonplussed for a second before breaking out in snickers. “‘Peak of your life,’” the boy repeated mockingly. “Oh my God, you really _are_ old, aren’t you? What are you doing at a high school prom? You’re not a perv, are you?”

“He’s totally a perv!” the girl exclaimed. “What, you get off on watching high school girls dance? Is that what you’re into, you sicko?

Pietro glanced out at the dance floor and caught sight of Wanda whirling gracefully around in a small group of people who were cheering her on. Well. At least one of them was having fun. He was trying to figure out the best form of revenge he could get on these jackoffs, because he was definitely going to ruin their special night one way or another before he left here.

“Seriously though, you should get the fuck out of here,” the boy said, “or I’m gonna tell security and watch as they beat your ancient ass.”

Before Pietro could retort, a new voice from behind him said, “Shut up, Ellis. He’s with me.” 

He glanced to the side to see a Hispanic girl, dressed in an elegant black cocktail dress with red and white trim, stepped up beside him and glared at the couple. If she thought she was taking a brave stand to end the dispute, she was wrong; Ellis and his date took one look at her and burst out laughing.

“Oh God, Emily, this is really pathetic,” the blonde girl said, dramatically pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. “I know you were so heartbroken over Michael, but rebounding with this freak? What, do you think that’s gonna make him jealous?”

“I’m so getting a picture of this, Jessie,” Ellis said between guffaws, reaching in his pocket to pull out a cell phone.

And with that, Pietro’s patience snapped. When they were making fun of him with their lame jokes, he could handle it. Well, it pissed him off, but he could bide his time until he figured out the perfect way to get back at them. But since they were picking on someone who had interfered on his behalf, someone they _knew,_ someone who had no reason to help Pietro, he gave up on the idea of constructing the perfect plan and just went with what he was feeling in that moment.

He moved so fast that none of the three of them would even realize he had moved at all. Ellis was frozen to him, his big dumb smirk plastered on his face as he was in the process of bringing out his phone. Pietro ran behind him and reached down his pants to find the hem of his underwear. Easy. With a significant amount of super-strong force, Pietro pulled it back as far as he dared, giving the idiot the biggest wedgie of the century. Noticing that Jessie was holding a cup of punch (probably spiked), Pietro moved her arm toward her face and started the momentum in that angle. And finally, just for shits and giggles, he moved Ellis’s arm to brush against Jessie’s, just so there wouldn’t be any doubt in the blonde’s simple mind who was responsible.

His little masterpiece all set up, he returned to Emily’s side, assuming the same position he’d taken when he left, and slowed down long enough to watch the action. 

Ellis _spasmed_ dramatically, shouting in inexplicable pain and instinctively clutching his groin. He dropped the phone in the process, which was a nice plus. Meanwhile, Pietro had anticipated, Jessie got a complete face-dunking in punch, which caused her to let out a high-pitched squeak. “Ellis, what the _hell!”_

Ellis couldn’t answer, groaning as he stumbled back to lean against the table. Jessie ignored his pain and continued to berate him for being a klutzy idiot, and in the confusion, Pietro took Emily’s arm and guided her away from the scene, which was starting to attract other kids—some of whom thought the sight of punch-drenched Jessie and anguished Ellis was hilarious.

Emily looked back over her shoulder at them, her brows knitted in confusion. “What just happened?” 

Pietro couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. He was pretty proud of his accomplishment, and unfortunately, Wanda hadn’t been there to bear witness, so… “If I show you something, do you promise not to tell anyone?”

Emily paused and looked up at him skeptically. “That’s a weird deal to make, but…sure. Why not.”

Smirking, Pietro held up a piece of bread (the last one he’d grabbed from the table) and said, “Watch this.” Making sure she was paying attention, he threw it as far as he could toward a set of abandoned tables in the corner. He waited until it had gone far enough for Emily to plainly see the distance…and then he dashed for it. He easily caught it and brought it back, slowing down his running enough so she could at least see how fast he was going.

And then he was in front of her, grinning triumphantly as he held up that very same piece of bread before popping it in his mouth. “See?” he asked smugly as he chewed. “I’m fast.”

Emily was shocked. She blinked a few times, staring at him and the appetizer he was enjoying. “Hold on a second…” She shook her head quickly and then looked around, before pointing across the room. “Bring something from over there. Like…the DJ’s hat.” 

Pietro followed her gaze and grinned as he noticed the backward cap that was casually resting on the DJ’s head. It was all the way on the other side of the function room, and he’d have to race around the dancing bodies of the other high schoolers to get there. It might put his tux to the limit, but he had a feeling he could handle it. “No problem. One shitty baseball hat, coming right up.” 

Rolling his shoulders back, he darted through the crowd, a silver blur that people would barely register more than a strange indoor breeze. He made it to the DJ, who had the microphone up to his mouth, about to announce something stupid probably, and scooped the hat easily off his head. _New York Yankees._ How uninspired. Without breaking his stride, Pietro took a different path through the crowd, passing Wanda mid-spin. He glanced at the guy she was dancing with, sneered, and jabbed him in the chest with enough force that would knock him off balance, before returning to Emily.

“There you go. I wouldn’t wear it though. Dandruffy,” he explained, handing it off to Emily.

She took it with wide eyes, looking back over at the DJ, who had put his microphone down and was running his hands through his balding hair frantically. “Holy shit,” she gasped. “You practically _teleported_ that.”

Pietro snorted, shrugging. “Teleporting is overrated. Too much guesswork. I always know exactly where I’m going.” He glanced back at the dance floor, where Wanda’s partner had taken an awkward tumble. He smirked as she bent down to help him up. She might have guessed what happened, but it was still worth it.

“C’mon,” he said to Emily, casually throwing his arm around her shoulders and guiding her toward one of the empty tables in the back. “Let’s sit down before anyone remembers we’re here.”

She went willingly, continuing to stare wide-eyed at the hat. Once they sat down at a table, she set it down very slowly and turned to him. “So who _are_ you? Are you from a different school?” She leaned forward, a conspiratorial spark in her eyes. “Are you here to play pranks on us? Because whatever you did to Ellis and Jessie was _brilliant.”_

He grinned widely, now pleased that he’d had an audience for that. “Sure, I’m from another school. My name’s Pietro. And no, I didn’t come here to humiliate them. That was just a nice bonus.” He nodded in the direction of the dance floor. “My sister wanted to crash the party, so I came to pretend to be her date in case anyone looked at her funny. But I think she’s doing just fine on her own.”

Emily turned in her seat to look at where he was looking. “Which one is she? Can we see from here?”

“She’s the one in red,” he said, just as Wanda twirled through his line of vision. She appeared to have ditched the guy Pietro knocked over, which was a plus. 

“Oh, wow. She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.” He leaned back in his chair, propping one leg up on the table casually. “So what’s your deal, Emily? You came here alone?”

She turned back around and blushed, turning her gaze down to her lap. “Yeah. You could probably tell, but I’m not one of the ‘cool kids.’” She put scare quotes around the phrase. “One of them, Michael…asked me to be his date. He’s always been nicer to me than the others, so I thought maybe he might have been serious. He even talked about buying me a corsage. Of course, the whole thing was just an elaborate prank so they could film my reaction when they revealed he was just leading me on.” She sighed, twisting her hands together. “I should’ve known better.”

A dark scowl cross Pietro’s face. He’d only known Emily a few minutes, but there was nothing _wrong_ with her. She wasn’t as glammed up as Jessie and she didn’t have Wanda’s natural grace, but she was cute. She had long, dark hair that was pulled together in a pretty braid. She had some acne, but her eyes were big and brown, kind of doelike, so it didn’t even matter. She was kind, stepping in on his behalf even when she didn’t have to, even when Pietro didn’t need the help. And she was sensible, understanding Pietro’s power in no time and not even looking at him like he was a freak, but just like…he was interesting and cool. 

He was right, and Magneto was right: humans sucked. Especially the rich ones. 

“Why on earth would they do that?” he asked. “Are they seriously that bored? Aren’t rich kids supposed to have fun doing inane shit like going shopping or traveling to exotic places or getting high on expensive drugs?”

Emily looked up at him a little shyly, a small smile forming. “They do all that too. I don’t know. I’m not as rich as them—I got into the school on an academic scholarship. So I don’t exactly…fit in.” She shrugged.

Pietro felt an odd lump in his throat at those words. He knew all about what that was like. Swallowing, he said dismissively, “You don’t want to fit in with those shallow assholes. Trust me. Their world order won’t last forever, and they’re gonna fall flat on their faces the second they have to fend for themselves.” He nodded at Emily. “You’re smart. Smart enough to get into this place on your own. That’s so much more than they’ll ever have.” 

“I know,” she said, forcing her smile to widen. “But it would be nice to feel…not so much like a freak all the time.” She shrugged again. “I don’t know. It’s stupid. I’m almost free of this place and on to college, which I hear is a lot better for people like me. I hope so.” 

Pietro didn’t show much of an outward reaction to the word “freak,” but inwardly, he winced. He’d heard that word—and far worse slurs—thrown at him and Wanda back in Europe, back when they were just kids trying to survive. Emily didn’t know how bad it could be, but…she’d had to get through four years of constant bullshit just to invest in her future. He could barely stand listening to those puffed-up morons for two minutes. 

He straightened up in his chair. “So which one is Michael?” 

Emily raised her eyebrows. “What?” 

“Michael. The fake-nice douchebag who pranked you. Which one is he?” 

She let out a sigh and turned to survey the crowd. “Looks like he’s dancing with Janice,” she said. “Which makes sense ’cause they’re pretty much shoe-ins for prom king and queen. There. The one with the longish hair dancing with the girl in the pink.” 

Pietro spotted them, and a smirk spread across his face. “I’ll be right back,” he said, not bothering to hide the mischievous glint in his eye.

Emily caught on, eyes widening. “What are you—”

But Pietro was already off and running, reaching Michael while he had his arms around Janice’s waist. Pietro glanced at his face at first, wondering if he was worth all of the suffering and embarrassment Emily had gone through. Not really. Pretty blue eyes, sure, and he wore the chin-length hair pretty well, but otherwise, he had a completely forgettable face. Pietro shook his head and reached for the boy’s belt, loosening it just enough to drag his pants down to around his ankles. Juvenile and basic, sure, but it got the job done.

Pleased with himself, he shot back to his chair next to Emily, leaning his elbow on the table and smiling at her as he slowed himself down to normal speed again.

“—going to do?” she finished asking, just as the commotion on the dance floor started. She turned around instantly, jaw dropping as Michael stumbled on his pants and fell on top of Janice. She shrieked, drawing the attention of all the students nearby, who naturally moved out of the way of the scene. Everyone was treated to the sight of Michael’s bare legs and dinosaur boxers. There was a beat, a moment of shock at what they were seeing—and then the laughter started, a ripple effect that ran through the entire crowd. Michael pushed himself off of Janice, his face beet red as he tried to pull his pants back up.

As for Emily, she placed one hand over her open mouth and turned back at Pietro. He could see her shoulders heaving with barely-suppressed laughter, and her eyes were filled with mirth. “Oh my God,” she wheezed. “You did _that!”_ She finally gave in to a fit of giggles, and Pietro chuckled along with her, extremely pleased with how it all turned out. 

Turned out prom could be fun after all.

_“Pietro.”_

He looked up as his sister strode toward him with purpose. Easing out of the chair, he went to greet her. “Wanda. How’s the dancing?” 

She rolled her eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “I know what you’re doing. And I’m just here to remind you to be _careful._ I know this is all fun and games to you and you don’t care about any of this, but if we make a scene then it draws attention to us, and it could draw attention to Father, and…”

Pietro reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. “Wanda, relax. I’m not going to get caught.”

“Don’t get cocky with me, Pietro. There’s always a chance you’ll get caught.” She pointed her finger in his face. “You’ve had your fun, now you should lay low until we’re done here. I only want to stick around for another hour, tops. Can you do that for me?”

He let out a sigh and dropped his hands to his sides. “Fine. But just so you know, that guy was a dickhead who totally deserved it.”

Wanda huffed. “I’m sure he did. I don’t care. We have to be careful.” She glanced over his shoulder and noticed Emily, who was pretending not to watch them talk. “Who’s that?” she asked in a lower voice.

Pietro shrugged. “That’s Emily. She’s cool.” 

“Pietro, did you show a _human_ your powers?”

The way she asked that made his gut twang unpleasantly. For a little while there, he hadn’t even considered Emily’s humanness as a dealbreaker. She wasn’t like all the other humans he’d known, who leaped to judge and hate him before knowing anything about him. If anything, she was more like him and Wanda, where she had to fight to prove herself worthy in an unfair world. 

But he didn’t know if Wanda would understand that, and if he told her, she might tell Magneto, and…no. So he shook his head. “No, I didn’t show her anything. I’ve just been hanging around her because she’s just telling me about how awful everyone here is.” 

Wanda gave him a hard, scrutinizing look, but then stepped back. “Okay. Just…no more power pranks. Find some other way to entertain yourself.” She raised an eyebrow. “You could always come out here and dance with me.” 

He snorted. “Nice try. Still a no.” 

“Loser,” she said, but she was smiling. “See you in a bit.” With that, she turned on her heel and headed back out onto the dance floor, moving past the embarrassing Michael debacle without looking at him once.

Pietro let out a breath and then moved back toward the table with Emily. “My sister’s on to me,” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “I should probably stop messing with your classmates now.”

Emily returned his smile. “Well, it was fun while it lasted. And definitely worth it. They’re going to be talking about that for _years.”_ She sighed happily. “I wish I’d taken a picture. But I’m sure it will be _all over_ Facebook tomorrow.” 

“You’re welcome, then.” He grinned, still feeling satisfied. At least someone could appreciate his “art.”

Emily bit her lower lip through her smile. “Come on,” she said. “The coast is clear at the buffet. Let’s get some snacks and punch. Assuming you aren’t full up on bruschetta already, that is.”

Pietro scoffed, already standing. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro makes the most of the evening with his new acquaintance, Emily.

As much as Pietro wanted to clear out the buffet (just so no one else but him and Emily could enjoy it), he managed to restrain himself when Emily giggled at the plate he had piled high with food. They headed back to their table, where Pietro wasted no time shoveling the food down while Emily picked at hers and watched him, seeming amused and fascinated.

“So, Pietro…” she started to say, but he wiped his mouth and spoke first.

“Emily, why did you bother coming to prom?” He waved his hand vaguely around his head to indicate the whole façade of lights and music and ridiculous people. “You know you’re better than everyone here, right? You know this is just a pointless event? Why did you wanna come if you knew people were just gonna be shits to you?” 

She looked surprised, and then embarrassed, dropping her gaze down to her plate as she pushed the food around with her fork. “It’s pretty stupid,” she agreed. “But…my grandpa wanted to take pictures of me. He has this big scrapbook dedicated to me and all the milestones I’ve hit. Half of it is from my _quinceañera,_ but he wanted the typical American things too. I skipped homecoming and junior prom, so this was my last chance to go to a school dance.” She sighed. “I was just going to come here, say hi to the few people who haven’t been total jerks to me, and then skip out to get a nice dinner for one at Outback Steakhouse until I felt like enough time had passed for me to go home.” She looked up at him then with a shy little smile. “But that’s when I saw you getting bullied by Ellis and Jessie. I _knew_ you didn’t go here. I didn’t know if you were maybe someone else’s date, but I decided to just roll with it.” 

Pietro stared at her, unable to identify the weird mix of emotions in his stomach. The thought of a parental figure, an overly proud grandfather, was completely foreign to his experience. Maybe Django and Marya would have been like that, if they had been American…and still alive. But it was _nothing_ like Magneto. 

He blinked as the rest of her words registered and mustered up a grin. “Well, I could have handled them on my own, but…it was definitely more fun after you jumped in.” 

“I agree.” Her smile grew a little wider and stronger. “It’s been really fun hanging out with you, Pietro. Now I don’t feel like this whole thing was a total waste of time.” 

That weird mix of emotions took on an extra flavor, and a goofy sort of grin popped up on his face before he could stop it. “Yeah, same. Though I can’t admit that to Wanda. She’ll lord it over me for months about how right she was to come here.”

Emily let out a giggle. “Well, if you have to tell her you were completely miserable spending time with me, I’m all right with that.”

Pietro chuckled and gave the room another periodic search for his sister. She had taken a break from dancing, he saw, but she was sitting at another table drinking water with a few girls who seemed to be talking to her in a very animated way. They were probably exchanging beauty tips or something. At least she wasn’t rubbing up on some other lunkhead guy. Pietro took a swig of punch and admitted, “You know, she kept trying to get me to dance tonight.” 

“Oh yeah?” Emily asked through a mouthful of food. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I basically told her over my dead body, but…technically I only meant I wouldn’t dance with _her.”_ He stood up again and extended his hand toward Emily. “C’mon. You went through all this preparation bullshit just to come to a dance. It’d be stupid not to dance at least once.” 

Emily looked at his hand, and then at his face, and then back to his hand. He swore he saw a blush creeping over her cheeks, and he refused to stop and think about what that might mean. “Well…all right then. When you put it like that.” She slid her hand into his—it was small and warm and soft, and he squeezed it instinctively. “I warn you, though, I’m a killer dancer.” 

Pietro laughed. “I think I’ll be able to keep up with you.” Holding onto her hand, he led her to a corner of the dance floor where they wouldn’t attract much attention. The song that was playing was some fast-paced rap song he didn’t recognize, but Emily wasted no time in swaying her hips to the beat. He soon realized that she wasn’t kidding about her skills—she knew legitimate dance steps, some kind of salsa or samba or something, and every now and then she’d twirl so fast that her braid would whip around her and Pietro was nearly smacked in the face. 

Despite his braggy claim, then—he was obviously fast enough to keep up with her, but coordination was another thing—Pietro found himself pausing awkwardly and having to start again when he missed the rhythm. Noticing this, Emily gave a bright smile and reached out to him. “Here, let me show you.” She put one of his hands on her shoulder and another at her waist and instructed, “Just watch what I do. One and two and three and four and one and two and…” While she counted, she moved her hips and feet and guided him to mirror her movements. 

It didn’t take long for Pietro to catch on (he might have never danced like this before, but he considered himself a natural), and by the end of the song he was bold enough to initiate one of the twirls. Emily gave a small squeak of delight as she went around, beaming up at him as she wound up in his arms. Pietro’s stomach gave a funny flip that he’d never quite felt before, and he wondered if this was really going where he thought it was going.

“Not bad,” Emily said—she was definitely blushing as she looked up at him. “For an obvious first-timer.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the grin tugging his own lips. “I’m a fast learner too, what can I say.” He might have said something else too, but at that point the next song started playing. This was much slower, an R&B song that Pietro thought he had heard before (though damned if he cared what it was called), and right on cue, the lights lowered and people on the dance floor started coupling up. 

Realizing his arm was still closely wrapped around Emily, Pietro looked down at her, trying to get a cue from her expression about what they should do. She couldn’t quite meet his gaze as she said, “Well, we did one song, at least. We don’t have to stay out here if you don’t want to…” 

That, for some reason, made his mind up. Pietro shook his head and pulled her in closer. “One fast song, one slow song. That makes sense to me.” He swallowed. “So what do you do for this, huh? Just sway back and forth?” 

“Pretty much. That’s all most people do.” She looked up at him again with a sheepish smile. “It’s hard to salsa to Usher, no matter how slow you go.” 

He nodded and kept one arm on her waist while the other held on to her hand, crooking at the elbow. A quick glance around the room showed that most teens were content to basically embrace each other and move side to side, but Pietro felt like they could at least move around in a small circle while the song played. Again, he caught a glimpse of Wanda in the crowd—she was swaying with one of the girls she’d been sitting with earlier—and he smiled before looking back down at Emily. 

They might have only just met earlier that evening, but Pietro felt he could trust her, despite Wanda’s warning. She liked him while he was just being himself. It made him wonder why there weren’t more humans like her; if he had grown up in a village full of Emilys, then he and Wanda wouldn’t have had to fight, day after day, to stay alive. 

At some point during the song, Emily smiled and leaned her head against his chest, slowing their movements down further. For some reason, that didn’t bother him. Normally when people started moving unnecessarily slowly, it drove him crazy. There was always somewhere better to be, something better to do. But this moment, this dance with Emily, was actually exactly where he wanted to be and what he wanted to do. So it didn’t matter if it was taking a long time. In fact, he didn’t think he wanted it to end.

But it would end—the song, anyway—and as he sensed that it was nearing its finale, he spoke softly. “Emily.” She pulled back and looked up at him, and he felt his heart quicken to see her face so close to his. “I’m really glad I met you.” 

Her eyes widened, and her smile melted into an expression of total affection. “Me too, Pietro.” 

He breathed in for a second, waiting just long enough to be sure she didn’t want to pull away. And then, despite not really knowing what he was doing, he leaned down, eyes squeezed shut, and brushed his lips against hers. 

Her mouth was warm, and after another second he felt her kissing back, and his heart quickened even further while everything else around him slowed. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. 

But then the soothing melody of the Usher song faded out and was instantly replaced with some obnoxious bubblegum pop. It jarred him out of the moment, and the rest of his environment came rushing back to him as he pulled away. He blinked and stared at Emily, suddenly wondering if he should have done that. He hadn’t come here to kiss some random girl. 

But Emily’s face was flushed and her eyes were aglow and there was something about that look that made Pietro’s heart melt. Okay, he still didn’t know if it was a good idea, but at least…she was feeling the same way he was. “That was nice, Pietro,” she said quietly, somehow still retaining an expression of shyness as she gazed up at him. 

“Yeah,” he said, and before he could stop himself he was leaning down for another one. And when that stopped, Emily didn’t wait long to initiate one of her own. And they went back and forth like that for a while, forgetting the cheesy lights and the songs and everything else. 

\---------------------------------------------

Eventually, Pietro and Emily pulled apart long enough to grab some punch and make their way back to their table, talking lightly and exchanging soft-eyed grins and giggles. Not long after that, however, Pietro saw his sister headed over, her own face flushed from what he presumed was all the dancing activity. He felt himself stiffen and pull back from Emily just slightly.

“Okay,” she said, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I feel good. I’m ready to go, I think. You ready?”

Her expression was expectant, and Pietro knew she didn’t think he would refuse, but he felt oddly reluctant as he stood up. “Okay, yeah. We should go. Um, why don’t you go on ahead, Wanda? I just wanna finish my drink and then I’ll be right over.”

She arched her eyebrow up with a wicked curve, looking from him to Emily and then back to him. “All right,” she said, giving him a hard look. “Don’t be long.” 

“You know I never am. I’m just giving you a head start because I know how slow you are.” 

Wanda sighed and rolled her eyes, but didn’t challenge him as she turned and headed back toward the way they had come in. Pietro exhaled in relief and looked down at Emily, now unsure how to proceed. “Um, well…guess I’m heading out now.”

If Emily was disappointed, she didn’t show it; she just smiled warmly at him. “Guess so. But before you go…” She reached into her clutch purse and pulled out a pen. In neat blue ink, she scrawled a number on a napkin and handed it to him. “I don’t know if you have your own phone, but here’s my number. Call me or text me if you wanna hang out over the summer. I’m not going anywhere until late August, so…” 

He took the napkin and stared at the number, feeling a lump in his throat. She was leaving the door open, though he wasn’t sure he could walk through it. But he smiled, folded it in half and stuck it in his pants pocket. “That would be fun.” Running a hand through his hair, he held out his hand. “Until then, I guess this is goodbye.”

Emily smiled brightly and stood up, giving him a tight hug. “Goodbye, Pietro.” That lump intensified as he hugged her back. He wanted to see her again. Not just because of the kissing, but…he found her easy to talk to. And he liked hearing about her life, even though it was so different from his, but at the same time…it kind of wasn’t.

He gave her one last gentle kiss before pulling away from her. Her expression was so patient and hopeful and kind, and he risked entering super speed just to get away from her faster, before he felt tempted to stay behind a little longer. In no time at all, he had caught up with Wanda, who was giving him a curious look.

But instead of grilling him, she said, “I hate to admit this, but you were right. Proms are boring and lame. I mean, the dancing was fun at first, but…” She shook her head. “Father was right. We really have nothing in common with these people, and they don’t care about us.” 

Pietro looked at her in surprise as they walked out of the function room. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry it didn’t live up to your expectations.” 

Wanda sighed, heaving her shoulders. “It’s okay. I’m glad we went. Now I know what it’s really like and don’t have to feel like I’m missing out on anything.” She reached out and touched his shoulder. “I’m surprised you were able to sit still for that long. Did you really not try dancing once?”

Normally, Pietro felt like he could tell anything to his sister, but for some reason…he didn’t want to share what he’d done with Emily. Maybe because he sensed she would get angry. Maybe because she would make fun of him. He couldn’t quite figure out why, but he just knew that his gut was telling him to keep it a secret. “No. I mostly just ate as much of the food as I could get and let Emily gossip. I didn’t care about anything she was saying, but at least the stories were entertaining. Human teenagers have a lot of stupid drama, even more stupid than what you see on your TV shows.” 

Wanda shook her head, tsking. “I see that now. What a waste of space, all of them.” They headed outside, and she turned to Pietro with a smile. “Ready to run home?” 

Pietro guiltily shoved the napkin deeper into his pants pocket before he grinned. “Been ready from the start.” And he picked her up, checked to make sure no one was paying attention to them, and ran off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Maximoff twins face the music from their father.

The second they entered the faraway basement-level apartment that served as their home, they both knew something was wrong. The energy in the air…they could taste it, feel it in their teeth. Electromagnetism.

Their father was home.

Pietro came to a screeching halt and let Wanda spill out of his arms as they were confronted with the imposing figure of Magneto. A story of cold anger was etched into the wrinkles of his face as he studied both twins. 

“I don’t suppose,” he said in a voice that thrummed with unspeakable power, “either of you would like to explain why I’ve come home to an empty apartment?”

There was no point in lying. They both had learned this early on. It simply wasn’t worth it. Pietro cleared his throat and bent his head contritely. “We…went out to the city.”

“We crashed a prom,” Wanda added. “It was my idea, Father. I made Pietro take me.” 

“But I could have said no, and I didn’t.” Like he was going to let her take the fall alone for this.

Magneto’s eyes narrowed on them. “What on earth could possibly possess you to want to attend that vapid, arbitrary ritual?” 

“I just…I wanted to see one with my own eyes. I wanted to know what it was like.” She went on quickly, “And I saw that you were right. It is vapid, and none of the people who attend things like that are worth our time or attention. Pietro tried to tell me it was a waste of time, and I should have listened.”

Pietro’s guilt increased. He didn’t deserve this praise, not when he was hiding something. But somehow, even feeling his father’s stern, scrutinizing gaze on him, he didn’t want to give up his experience with Emily. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his fingers reaching down for that napkin as if to give him strength to get through this. 

“While I am obviously disappointed in this show of foolish and unnecessary rebellion, I trust that you have both learned your lesson from this experience.” Magneto looked between them, his eyes as sharp as the angle of his bushy eyebrows. “I am your guide to the human world. I have lived a long life and experienced suffering at the hands of the cruelest oppressors history has ever seen, and I pass along the wisdom and knowledge so that _you_ don’t have to experience the same. What I give you is a gift. Do not throw it back in my face to spite me.”

“Yes, Father,” Wanda said immediately. “I understand. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” 

Pietro swallowed. “What she said.”

“Pietro.” His father’s voice was quiet, but the single name was packed with so much raw tension that he didn’t even need to raise his voice for the message to come across.

Pietro took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m sorry too. I promise we won’t do it again.”

“See that you do not. No humans can be trusted, children. Even if they do not appear to outwardly hate us, they are all complicit in our oppression.” Perhaps Pietro was imagining it, but he could have sworn Magneto’s stare hardened when he looked at him. He didn’t look away, but he had to wonder wildly if it was possible that his father knew the truth. “Do not forget this,” Magneto concluded darkly. “Even a moment of weakness can lead to your demise.” 

“Yes, Father,” Wanda said, Pietro echoing her a second behind.

“Go to bed. I still expect you to get up for morning training.” With that, he spun away from them and strode into the next room. Only when he was out of sight and earshot did Pietro let out the breath that he hadn’t been realizing he was holding.

“Well,” Wanda said miserably, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Let’s do as he says.” 

“Yeah,” Pietro said, trailing after her as they went to their respective bedrooms. He paused when he got to his. “Good night, sis.” 

“Good night, Pietro.”

He hated how defeated she sounded, but he couldn’t say anything to cheer her up, because he felt the same way. Possibly worse. Once he closed the door to his bedroom behind him, he flopped on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, going over the events of the night. Funny how even after his father’s reprimanding speech, he could still feel the taste of Emily’s lips on his.

Pietro squeezed his eyes shut and stuck his hand deep into his pocket until he found that napkin. He didn’t know how long he lay there with his fingers curled around it. He tried to pit the image of Emily’s smile against what his father said about all humans being complicit. Rationally, he knew it was true, but part of him thought…or hoped…that if Emily could accept him as he was without batting an eye, that maybe…

_No._ Magneto was right. This was only weakness, and if Pietro let it distract him, he couldn’t do what he needed to do. What was he going to do with this stupid number? Call a girl he’d only talked to for a couple of hours to hang out? He made a face and pulled the napkin out of his pocket, sitting up as he did so. Emily had left the door open by giving out her number, but he had to be the one to close it. Really, it was embarrassing that he had even been tempted.

“Goodbye, Emily,” he said, surprising himself with how heavy his voice sounded. But he didn’t falter, tearing the napkin in half and then ripping it over and over again until it was nothing but little paper shreds on his lap. 

It was one night. One mistake. He would keep his promise to his father, and wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to ruin it, didn't I.


End file.
